یه استاد ادبیات داشتم تو دانشگاه میگفت خانوم فلانی قراره به نویسنده ی بزرگ بشه در فلان شهر بزرگ دنیا  من به هیچ عنوان نمیدونم چرا قرار بود من در فلان شهر باشم و نه جایی که بودم. اما نویسنده ی بزرگ شدن رو خودم روش تاکید داشتم. حالا اگر کوچک هم میماندم باز هم خیلی ناراحت نمیشدم  ولی این مثل یک‌ چالش بود. در هر صورت من خودم را رساندم به فلان شهر  به تنهایی و با هرار سختی و بدبختی. قبل از آن هم اطمینان حاصل پیدا کردم که به پیش زمینه ی اغلب علمی ام جنبه ای فلسفی، موسیقیایی، سینمایی، دراماتیک و گاهی حتی رمانتیک اضافه کنم. مرحله دوم کامل کردن یادگیری زبانی که به آن قرار بود بنویسم بود که از کودکی روی آن کار کرده بودم،  و سبک نویسنده که طی دو‌دهه تلاش مستمر بدست آمد، و دست آخر آماده کردن لوازم اولیه ی کار نویسنده که برای من گویی چیزی کاملا متفاوت از مراقبه و اشک و ناله بود و آن به صورتی معجزه آسا خود به خود فراهم شد. نهایتا سال گذشته نویسنده از لاک خود در آمده و داستان کوتاهی متولد شد به نام «لطفا پیام بده». از آنجا که انگیزه ی نویسنده ابتدای به ساکن شعر است و شاعر هم کمتر دنبال چیزی جز توجه، داستان  را در زیر بیابید:

گرچه شخصیت های داستان از واقعیت بر گرفته شده اند اما در فلان شهر که حالا برای نویسنده فقط یک شهر نیست. بلکه هر شهری که او در آن وقت سپری میکند میتواند باشد قوانین همه گیری وجود دارد. یکی از آنها قانون جنگل است که با فرهنگ بومی نویسنده تضاد دارد. و گرچه بعدها در اپیزود های بعد وقتی نویسنده سری به گذشته میزند از همین تیپ شخصیت ها که اغلب اعمالشان بر اساس غریزه شان برای بقاست برمیخوریم. اما نویسنده اغلب با شخصیت هایی در کودکی برخورد داشته که عمیق و کمتر مادی یا غریزی بوده اند. 

به نظر می آید که نویسنده خود را عمدا در مسیری قرار داده که باید بین دو ارزش متفاوت و یا دو هدف مجزا یکی را انتخاب کند. اما در واقع  رویکرد او به مسائل پیچیده تر از یک انسان عادی و یا متعارف است. و از این لحاظ اتفاقاتی که در تکست و داستان های بعدی می افتد که  ممکن است خواننده ای با شخصیت متعارف را ناراحت و یا شوکه کند برای او مسائلی حل شده اند.

در آخر، نویسنده ی فارسی زبان بودن، در هر زبانی که به آن بنویسی، سخت است. نقاط ضعف نویسنده در هر زبانی که مینویسد، را بر او‌ بببخشایید.

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Ding. Open-« So tell me, which one of them took you in the Pussy? Which one in the mouth? Did you get their numbers? Will you invite me to the wedding? Lol»—

He is digging. I type« I’ll tell you all about that in person. but, I am now getting ready to have lunch with them” ?

I can do better. I don’t even know what shitty really means, because, well…it’s complicated, but basically I wanna be shitty. As shitty as it gets. And imagine, if I am shitty, me, think, me, a shitty me. And of course you are thinking of something different to what I am thinking but still, it must be shitty. Right? 

In the early hours of the morning the day before last, the kettle was boiling and I was waiting for the water to reach 100 exact degrees centigrade, so I could pick it up and pour the boiling water on my fa… I mean in the bathtub. Because we were meeting in the evening; Jeremy and I, and I couldn’t sleep all night. Not quite out of excitement, but because of mental illness, and my flat is cold. So I thought I’d take a bath, but the water in the pipes is cold too. And so I needed to put the kettle on which takes ages to boil and is small, to boil 5 times to take a warm bath… to look nice, for when I meet Jeremy at the restaurant as usual where he will be proving to me how much he doesn’t want me for sex. And, every time, I am sure this time he’ll yield, but he doesn’t.

While getting ready I was on the phone to my sister who was saying… well, Yesterday was her birthday and we had a nice little early birthday chat on the phone. We discussed if you have ever done maths you know! It is like this; You are presented with a problem. You carve it on your brain. You go about your life feeling the pain of it constantly in your brain but you ignore it and think about other things and then it comes to you; the answer, it just arrives. It’s so satisfying that you want to do it with everything all your lives: Numbers, calculations, formula, equations, differentials…

And, Before we have finished, I am out. I am out out. I am at the Old Compton waiting for Jeremy who thinks he knows everything, And For that reason, I have ordered a cocktail called Charles Dickens, at his expense. It’s beautiful. It tastes like a poem, or if I was feeling my physique; sex, like good sex. It looks beautiful. It has lime, double Dutch Scotch and most importantly watermelon in it, and contains no alcohol. And, it has been decorated with a piece of lemon and a flower which I sniffed and which is not smelly but looks nice, and the whole thing has a shade of pink to it. I can hear cool music and watch the people and sip my drink until he arrives because I screwed up a little on my way, freezing half way in the underground and so he had to get a car to get me there , and get the tube himself. Well in fact, I didn’t quite screw up!

After a second cocktail he arrives. Him and I have been together off and on for four years. I don’t know what we are. But, He believes we have something precious as “we have been through many ups and downs together”. I think it has been more like more ups for him and more downs for me, but It is true. Last year when he accused me of wanting him for money when I only needed his signature on a contract as a formality; something he could easily afford and would make a huge difference in my life, I accused him of wanting me for sex. He then declared he does not “want, need or expect” sex from me. « Sex is easy to find » he said. And I am sure it is the case for a man of his status , « but I love you » so since then he’s been just taking me out for dinners and cocktails and and there’s always lots of touching; of nerves too through inappropriate quite frankly incomprehensible monologues from his side. Drinks are flowing and he is talking now about how he has reached the age in his life that he just doesn’t give a shit anymore. He is right. He is a good decade older and he probably knows things I don’t, and I am happy to accept his wisdom sipping very nice cocktails. He insists he just wants to spend good time with me, and that he is not even jealous about me and in fact, the thought of me sleeping with other men excites him. He would not like to be present there because he hates “penises including me own”, which is shocking. He also tells me he’d like to meet Peter. Peter is a man I met the last time Jeremy took me out. Right!

The end of the night was like the last cocktail the barman made for me. It’s called Sidercar. he mixed cognac, which I’d have happily adjourned with something a little sweet and a little sour, and, I remember my falling asleep tasted like that. When I opened my eyes it was morning, which means the night was over which means it was another day which is supposed to mean something. I am sure the guy sleeping on my right side is called Harry. I’m not quite sure about the one on my left, and in fact I refused to tell them my own name all night.

Harry is speaking: “so what do you think of moving to Scotland and getting married?” I take it as banter so I say yes, I would consider getting married. Because I like the wedding dresses and they look nice on me. The other guy is more thoughtful and quiet. He says something about the pilot guy, « your boyfriend” …and Harry, still holding me tight in his arms, responds: “she doesn’t give a shit.”I say: “there’s no one who doesn’t give a shit as much as I do”.

Hugh; as I find is the name of the other man I slept with last night, picks up from a very familiar desk and passes me my mobile as I stretch from the bed on which I am still sitting naked and I see from the texts and missed calls that Jeremy was worried about me last night. And, since then I have been feeling bad in case the other night he had a hard time explaining to the lesbian couple; whom  I had met just outside when I went for a cigarette; bringing them back in with me afterwards and introducing them to him knowing; he would immediately invite them for a drink with us, what just happened. So, it’s been 24 hours of texting back and forth because… oh I know what! 

Right;  « I’ll tell you all about that in person. They are chefs which is why I agreed to have lunch heh, if it works out, I can invite you to better things than my wedding.  And, you can meet Peter there too. Tongue out. Kiss kiss.” Send.